The Amateur Army | Page 8

said.
By Wednesday evening I spoke to the orderly sergeant, who looked puzzled for a moment. "Come with me to the lieutenant," he said. "He'll know more about this matter than I do, and he'll see into it. But it will be difficult to get special leave, you know; they don't like to give it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" he repeated; "what the devil does it matter to you? You're paid here to do what you're told, not to ask questions."
The lieutenant was courteous and civil. "I can't do anything in the matter," he said. "The orderly sergeant will take you to the company officer, Captain ----, and he'll maybe do something for you."
"If you're lucky," said the sergeant in a low whisper. About eight o'clock in the evening I paraded in the long, dimly-lighted passage that leads to our company orderly-room, and there I had to wait two hours while the captain was conducting affairs of some kind or another inside. When the door was opened I was ordered inside.
"Quick march! Left turn! Halt!" ordered the sergeant as I crossed the threshold, and presently I found myself face to face with our company commander, who was sitting by a desk with a pile of papers before him.
"What is it?" he asked, fixing a pair of stern eyes on me, and I explained my business with all possible despatch.
"Of course you understand that everything is now subservient to your military duties; they take premier place in your new life," said the officer. "But I'll see what I can do. By myself I am of little help. However, you can write out a pass telling the length of time you require off duty, and I'll lay it before the proper authorities."
I wrote out the "special pass," which ran as follows:
"Rifleman ---- has permission to be absent from his quarters from 6 p.m. (date) to 10 p.m. (date), for the purpose of proceeding to London."
I came in from a long march on Thursday evening to find the pass signed, stamped, and ready. On the following night I could go to London, and I spent the evening 'phoning, wiring, and writing to town, arranging matters for the day ahead. Also, I asked some friends to have dinner with me at seven o'clock on Friday night.
Next day we had divisional exercise, which is usually a lengthy affair. In the morning I approached the officer and asked if I might be allowed off parade, seeing I had to set out for London at six o'clock in the evening.
"Oh! we shall be back early," I was told, "back about three or thereabouts."
The day was very interesting; the whole division, thousands of men, numberless horses, a regiment of artillery, and all baggage and munition for military use took up position in battle formation. In front lay an imaginary army, and we had to cross a river to come into contact with it. Engineers, under cover of the artillery, built pontoon bridges for our crossing; on the whole an intensely interesting and novel experience. So interesting indeed that I lost all count of time, and only came to consciousness of the clock and remembrance of friends making ready for dinner when some one remarked that the hour of four had passed, and that we were still five miles from home.
I got to my billet at six; there I flung off my pack, threw down my rifle, and in frenzied haste consulted a railway timetable. A slow train was due to leave our town at five minutes to seven. I arranged my papers, made a brief review of matters which would come before me later, and with muddy boots and heavy heart I arrived at the station at seven minutes to seven and took the slow train for London.
When I told the story of my adventures at dinner a soldier friend remarked: "You've been more than a little lucky in getting away at all. I was very unlucky when I applied--"
But his story was a long one, and I have forgotten it.

CHAPTER IV
OFFICERS AND RIFLES
As I have said, I have learned among other things to obey my officers and depend upon my rifle. At first the junior officers appeared to me only as immaculate young men in tailor-made tunics and well-creased trousers, wearing swords and wrist-watches, and full of a healthy belief in their own importance. My mates are apt to consider them as being somewhat vain, and no Tommy dares fail to salute the young commissioned officers when he meets them out with their young ladies on the public streets. For myself, I have a great respect for them and their work; day and night they are at their toil; when parade comes to an end, and the battalion is dismissed for the day, the officers, who have done ten or